


The Doors of Perception

by idelthoughts



Series: Tumblr Ask Box Fic [8]
Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Reveal Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3606909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idelthoughts/pseuds/idelthoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry had handled his share of hallucinogens before, but he hated them.  He had too many memories, too many doors he tried to keep locked, and everything reminded him of something he was trying to forget.  But Jo won't leave him, so it's going to be a long night, whether he likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Doors of Perception

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr. For the prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _maybe you could do a drabble for #69 (Annoyance) + Jo and Abe._

Henry caught the young man headed for Jo, sneaking from the bedroom to try and catch her unawares in the living room, not seeing Henry standing in the doorway of the bathroom examining their crime scene. Accordingly, he was the one who ended up with the face full of powder as he tackled the boy. Henry sneezed and choked on it, sputtering and working to keep hold of the body wiggling in his grasp, rolling them until Henry had him pinned.

“Jo!” Henry called. “Over here!”

“You’re here—we’re here. Right here,” the man mumbled, and worked a hand free to clutch at Henry’s face. The man’s eyes were wide and dark with overlarge pupils. “Right here. Gold and silver and all around you…”

He mumbled away, high as a kite, deep in some delusion. Hallucinogens, then. Henry’s nose tickled, his throat raw with the bitter cloud of powder he’d deeply inhaled when the man slammed his hand into his face, and had a horrible realization of what he’d had thrust on him.

Too late now, it was done. Nothing to do but deal with the current problem, and then—well, he’d see. Henry heard the thud of Jo’s running steps coming down the hall.

“Yes, right here,” Henry agreed, keeping his voice calm and sensible, half-muffled by the hand pawing at his cheeks and nose. “Both of us. A lovely place to be, isn’t it? Beautiful sky, gentle wind. Warm sunshine. Peaceful, wonderful.”

Beneath his body the man relaxed as he listened to Henry’s calming words, and he hummed pleasantly.

“Okay, I’ve got him.”

Jo leaned down next to him and caught the man’s wrist, pulling his hand from Henry’s face, and Henry rolled his weight aside as Jo cuffed the man, avoiding showing her his face, which was gritty with the remaining powder.

“Keep talking to him. Soft, positive tones. He’s hallucinating.”

Jo nodded, and with a pinched look of disapproval looked down at the man, but gentled her attitude all the same.

“Okay, come with me,” she said softly. “Let’s go.”

Henry scrambled up to return to the apartment bathroom, running water to wash his face and rinse out his mouth, but it was a fruitless exercise. He’d been dosed with whatever it was, and it wasn’t going to take long before it took effect.

Best to leave immediately. Otherwise they’d take him to the hospital, and there was absolutely no chance he’d willingly spend the night under observation while out of his head, never mind if this lead to an overdose. No, he needed to be home.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. He rubbed at his burning nose, praying for this to be a short-lived affair. He’d handled his share of hallucinogens before. In the meantime, he had to figure out how to get home as soon as possible without attracting attention to himself. Walking home would avoid the short term problem, but he wasn’t sure of his chances of avoiding jail if he spent the night hallucinating on the street. He was certain he could keep this under wraps until he could get Jo to drop him off.

With the faint tickle of altered perception tugging at the edges of his vision already, Henry stood calmly while Jo handed their suspect over to the uniformed cops waiting outside. She returned to Henry and patted him on the shoulder.

“You okay? He hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine,” Henry assured her with a smile. “Though it’s a little too much excitement for me, chasing down suspects. I think I’ll leave it to you in the future.”

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it if you did. I can handle myself. Don’t throw yourself in the way on my account, okay?”

“Of course.” He tried to focus on his intentions and blink away the warping sensation. “But I believe I’d like to go home, if you wouldn’t mind taking me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jo said. “I can drop you off on my way back to the precinct. This is going to be a hell of a clean-up. What with all the drugs he had stashed away back there, vice is going to get involved for sure. And he made a giant mess, too. I have no idea what he was doing.” Henry nodded and his vision lagged a second behind, Jo’s face blurring slightly, and he blinked again. She was frowning at him. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. I’ll meet you in the car.”

He turned away from her and trotted down the apartment stairs to wait for her there. Easier if he only had to sit. Sit, stay put, be silent, get out, go to the basement. Tell Abraham to leave him be, then wait it out.

He hated hallucinogens. He’d take anything over them. Too many memories. Everything reminded him of something, and it was hard enough to keep them at bay, let alone with chemicals running through his system and unlocking all the doors he tried to keep shut.

One foot in front of the other, into the car, his nose running and eyes watering, a cold sweat breaking out all over his body. Buckle, sit. Some time later, Jo got in, speaking to him briefly, and he nodded without registering her comments.

The car roared to life and he shut his eyes, praying for a swift end to this. He just had to hold it together long enough to be home.

 

***

 

Henry was quiet for the drive. Rightly so, in Jo’s opinion. Probably getting in the way of a tweaking idiot and being mauled would be enough to teach him a small lesson, if not necessarily make him a little less prone to taking constant risks.

When she pulled over next to the front of the antiques shop Henry looked sweaty and pale, like he was sick to his stomach. She patted him on the arm to get his attention. He startled violently, looking at her with wild eyes, his pupils large and blacking out the brown. She pulled her hand back in surprise as he cringed from her.

“My god—Henry, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he stuttered. “Goodbye, Jo.”

He scrabbled at the door, hand searching along the edge of it, before making a grab at the handle, as though he’d forgotten where it was. He stumbled out the door, but his seatbelt trapped him, and he struggled to free himself with a faint gulping whine before practically rolling out the car door onto the street and staggering for the front door of the shop.

Jo fled the car chasing after Henry, catching him by the elbow and pulling him around. His skin was sallow and clammy and his eyes wouldn’t focus on her properly. Off balance, he fell back against the door.

“Henry, wait, I think you’ve been—“

“Drugged. Yes, I know,” he pulled back from her, pushing her hands away, trying to get away from her. “I’m going to go home and wait it out.”

“No, Henry! I’ve got to get you to a hospital.”

“It wasn’t enough to kill me,” Henry muttered, and spiralled around to the shop door just as it opened. “I’d be dead by now if it were.”

Abe was standing in the shop door peering at them, and with one look at Henry he shifted to alarm, reaching for Henry.

“My god, what happened to you?”

“Accidental dosing.”

“ _Accidental?_ ”

“Not like your ‘accidental’ dose, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Henry said, pointing a finger at him. Abe frowned, looking from Henry to her and back again. Henry waved his hands, knocking at both Abe and Jo, who were trying to steady him. “I’m going downstairs. Bring me water, then leave me alone.”

Henry lunged for the door and pushed past Abe, weaving his way to the back of the shop with determination, and Jo moved to follow. Abe blocked her way and she pulled back in surprise. His expression was worried, but he was clearly reluctant to let her follow Henry.

“Abe, we need to get him to a hospital. We have no idea how much he was dosed with. It could kill him. Help me get him back to the car.”

“Look, I know this sounds a little odd, but Henry’s going to be fine. Just let him work it out, he’ll call you as soon as he’s back on his feet.”

He put an arm around her to try and guide her out the door. Jo stared at Abe, incredulous. With a glare she dug in her heels, refusing to move from the doorway. Abe dropped his arm and blew out a breath, running a hand through his thinning hair with a vexed look.

“Well, I didn’t think that was going to work, but worth a try.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jo sputtered. “He is under the influence of an unknown substance and you think it’s okay to just leave him in the basement all night? What the hell?”

Abe cringed, looking over his shoulder again towards where Henry had disappeared, and back at Jo.

“Trust me, I’m not going to leave him alone. He just doesn’t want anyone to see him, that’s all. But I won’t let him be alone. Okay? Don’t worry.”

“Abe, for god’s sake, this is about his _life_.” She reached in her pocket and pulled out her cell. “Fine, I’m calling an ambulance, then.”

Abe grabbed her wrist and stilled her hand. They stood in a face-off for several long and silent seconds until Abe swore quietly to himself and tugged her in the shop.

“Okay, come in.” He locked the shop door behind her. “Look, Henry’s a doctor. And—oh, how should I put this—Henry knows enough about drugs and himself to know if he’s going to OD. Or if he’s not. So if he says he’s not, he’s not.”

“What does that mean?” Abe was already walking away from her, heading to the stairs that lead to Henry’s laboratory. “He’s used a lot of drugs?” She trotted after him, trying to catch up. “Abe, talk to me.”

“It means that Henry needs water, and I’m giving it to him.”

She rounded the corner with Abe and nearly crashed into the back of him when Abe came to an abrupt halt. Henry was at the top of the stairs, his face pressed to the wall, his breathing laboured.

“Henry?” Abe said softly. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“The stairs—I know they have to be there, I know they’re there. Help me find the stairs. Everything is already,” he waved a hand vaguely, twisting his fingers, “moving.”

“Abe, let me take him to a hospital,” Jo said softly. “Look at him.”

“He’s not going to do better there. At least at home he’ll have familiar things, we can make this a little more pleasant. Some nice music, low lights, just keep things calm.” Abe smiled at her. “You live through the Sixties, you learn a few things. It’ll be okay.”

“Jo?” Henry’s face turned towards them, his cheek pressed tight to the wall. “Jo, please, go. I’m fine.”

“Henry, hate to break it to you, but I think she’s staying,” Abe said gently. “It’s this or she’s gonna haul you to the hospital.”

Henry moaned into the wall.

“I can’t. I can’t go. Jo, please, I beg you, no hospitals.”

Jo’s hackles were up, but the sensible part of her said that if Henry wasn’t going to OD, then Abe was right—he was better off in a familiar, safe environment than the sterile background of a hospital. She’d spent enough time hauling tripping suspects into emergency rooms and jail cells and watching them freak out to know there were better ways to spend a night.

“Fine,” she said. “Henry, alright, we’ll stay here. But I’m staying with you, okay?”

Henry flipped so his back to the wall, and his pupils were so wide it was like staring at a cartoon character. He blinked at her, and then turned to Abe.

“I won’t be able to keep it all straight,” he said, his tone pleading. “I can’t. I barely can every day, Abe. Memories everywhere.”

Henry’s tongue was loosening, words pouring out of him, and whatever he was afraid of, it made Jo’s heart clench. But Abe just smiled at Henry peaceably, then patted him on the cheek and took him by the arm.

“God, this is just like babysitting my roommates back in Berkeley. Look, we’re in for a long haul. Let’s make this a nice experience, okay? Jo’s a friend, she’ll be fine.”

Henry focused on Abe, and then nodded.

“Yes, yes. Of course.” He closed his eyes. “I preferred hashish over all this—this movement. Or heroin. Even cocaine if I must. Not this light show.”

“Mmhm, yep. I think we’re going to take you upstairs, okay?”

Henry let himself be pulled after Abe and Jo trailed behind, suddenly feeling helpless, sick to her stomach at the litany of heavy drugs Henry mentioned. What the hell kind of life had Henry lived? She had no idea what she was doing here, but she knew she wasn’t about to abandon Henry. Upstairs, Abe ordered her to sit on the couch and put Henry beside her, tossed a pillow at her and told her to put it on her lap, and between them they arranged Henry to lie down.

“Pat his head and say nice things,” Abe said. “I’m going to get us some coffee, because it’s going to be a long day—and probably night.”

“Okay,” Jo agreed, and looked down at Henry, and after a moment she brushed his forehead with her palm and stroked back his hair. “Hang in there, Henry. We’re here. Me and Abe.”

“I know,” he said. “I know.” He smiled then, staring up at her, and she had the distinct feeling that the Henry she knew was slipping away. “I know, Jo. Josephine? Joanna? Joan?”

“Josefina,” she answered, and he grinned.

“Josefina,” he repeated, drawing her name out. “Beautiful. I knew it would be a beautiful name.”

Abe snorted from the kitchen, looking over his shoulder at her from where he was preparing the coffee.

“I knew it. Sit him down with a pretty girl and he’s happy as a clam.”

Henry giggled, sounding silly enough that it pulled a smile from Jo and she stroked his hair again. He closed his eyes, clearly delighting in the attention. At least he was happy.

“Pot and kettle, Abraham!” Henry belted out suddenly, and then he sprung up from the couch, nearly tumbling to the ground as he did.

“Henry, slow down!” Jo leapt up, grabbing Henry under the arms, and he spun in her grasp, throwing his arms around her and pulling her into a hug.

“Jo, Josefina, Jo Jo Jo,” he mumbled. “I am glad you’re here. I’m glad you stayed. I am so very fond of you.”

Jo wrapped her arms around Henry, feeling his beating heart thudding away violently against her own ribcage, and wondered what the hell she’d gotten into. She’d never liked drugs, or people on drugs, since her childhood, since dodging them became a way of life in her neighbourhood. Since her dad had been hauled off to jail for dealing, after years of junkies showing up at their door at all hours had finally terrorized her mother into calling the cops on her own husband.

“Henry, you’re hanging on too tight,” she said, and patted his back.

Henry immediately released her and backed off, and then made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Incoming,” she called to Abe.

Abe turned around just in time to receive a bear hug from Henry. He grunted, and then with a chuckle slapped Henry on the back. Henry sighed, resting his chin on Abe’s shoulder.

“You are something else,” Abe said with a laugh. “I should take a video.”

“Haven’t done this in decades,” Henry mumbled.

“Is that so,” Abe said noncommittally, glancing uneasily at Jo and patted Henry on the back. “Good imagination there, Henry.”

“Your mother and I. Her idea, said we had to understand what you were going through with the whole LSD phase. We ended up having sex for hours. In some ways, I can see the appeal. I still don’t approve, though.” He lifted his head and then put his hands on Abe’s cheeks, squinting at him. “But I wish your face would stop moving. Very disconcerting.”

Abe was flushed beet red and he closed his eyes as though in pain.

“Henry, for the love of god, too much sharing.”

“Sorry,” Henry murmured, and then wandered off, stalling to stare at a bookcase in rapt fascination.

Jo approached Abe and stood near him, who had a hand over his eyes.

“Did he…” She didn’t even know where to go with that statement. Who says they banged their elderly roommate’s mom? What kind of drugs was Henry even on?

“Yep,” Abe answered, looking like he was eager to pour bleach in his ears. “Don’t worry about it, he’ll probably have all sorts of nonsense stored up in his head. Just ignore it.” He gave her a pleading look. “You sure you don’t want to go? I can handle this.”

Jo’s worry made her annoyance flare. She was not leaving her partner—her friend—without someone on hand who recognized that being exposed to unknown narcotics was a life-threatening situation. Promises aside, she’d haul Henry to the hospital on her back if it became necessary. She was irritated and disappointed in Abe for his blasé attitude.

“He’s your friend too,” she snapped. “I don’t see why you’re not taking this more seriously.”

“I am,” Abe said, turning to the kettle as it started to whistle. He poured the water into the french press over the grounds. “Believe me, I am.” He looked up abruptly, setting the kettle back on the stove. “Aha! We can set him in front of the jellyfish tank. That’ll keep him busy for ages.”

“Jellyfish?” she repeated.

They had pet jellyfish? What was _wrong_ with these two?

 

***

 

Some confused minutes later after a riotous trip downstairs, sure enough, Henry was seated in front of a large blue-lit jellyfish tank staring at it with captivated attention.

“There,” Abe said, folding his arms with satisfaction. “Better than a lava lamp. I’ll go grab our coffee, you keep an eye on him.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Abe trotted back up the stairs, and Jo turned back to Henry. He was in his rolling office chair, his back to her, head tipped back and to the side. She grabbed a wooden chair and pulled it up next to him.

“Interesting choice of pets,” Jo said, leaning back in her chair. She wasn’t sure if there was a point in trying to chat with Henry right now, but it was too strange to sit in silence next to him. “Any reason why you’ve got them?”

“Fascinating creatures,” Henry breathed. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the glass, his eyes tracking the movement of the white ghost-like figures pulsing through the water. “Did you know? _Turritopsis dohrnii_ transform and renew themselves endlessly. Theoretically immortal. If I can solve them, I can solve me.”

“Mm-hm,” Jo said, rolling her eyes. This was like talking to a fortune cookie. She folded her arms tightly and crossed her legs. Well, at least he didn’t look like he was going to die, so she’d just keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

“Me, jellyfish, maybe cockroaches, here to the end of the earth. If people evolve, will I be a living relic? Imagine _homo neanderthalensis_ trying to blend in with today’s society. I might see the sun expand, you know. Do you think if the earth burns and all the water boils away, I will finally die? Or will I be in an ice block somewhere in the universe, frozen forever? Die, freeze, die, freeze, die, freeze…”

He kept repeating the phrase over and over again until Jo couldn’t take it anymore, her skin crawling with his disturbing images—none of which seemed to bother him, just rolled free of him like aimless daydreams. She leaned forward and tugged at his shoulder, bringing him back from the tank to lean back in his chair again. She swung him towards her, putting her hands on his shoulders.

“Henry, how about we think about something else. Something nice. Like…I don’t know. What do you like? Art? You know a lot about cars. You like cars? Tell me about sports cars or something.”

She was selfish here, trying to haul him towards a different delusion when he’d been perfectly calm in his little world, no matter how frightening his words were.

“Cars, cars, cars,” he repeated, parroting the word over and again, stuck in some sort of loop. He had a daft smile on his face as he studied her. “I’ve died in too many cars, too fast now. Steering column through the chest, lacerations from going through the windshield, crushed by side impact—“

“Hey, Henry,” came Abe’s voice from over her shoulder, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Henry’s wide blacked out ones, which bored into her. “Let’s think about the good times. Remember when you moved in here? Into the antiques shop? We walked in Central Park, you were happy to be back.”

Jo released Henry as he broke his attention from her to smile beatifically at Abe, leaning to the side and staring at him vacantly, his knees going side to side until he set the whole chair swivelling back and forth with him in it.

“I’d missed you so much,” he sighed. “I’m sorry Abe, I missed so much…” He shook his head, and then held a hand to his eyes, covering them, stilling the chair. “Everything is moving, I can’t see you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Abe nudged her arm, and she looked up to find him beside her. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

She nodded dumbly, having trouble tearing her attention from Henry. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise her that a man who worked in a morgue had so much death in his head, but the intensely personal nature of it disturbed her deeply. But he was alive, she told herself, and that’s what she was here to ensure. The weird distorted look into Henry’s mind was an unfortunate side-effect, but she wished she could understand how much was the stuff of pink elephants and ephemera, and how much was real.

She followed Abe to the top of the stairs, both of them checking quickly on Henry, but he seemed withdrawn, his hand still over his face, tilted to the side in his chair like a spinning top that had ceased its travels.

“You okay, kid?” Abe asked. He handed her the cup of coffee, taking a sip of his own. “You don’t need to do this, you know. I can manage.”

“I’m—I’m fine,” she said, but in truth she felt rattled, and the coffee was hot and soothing in its familiarity. “It’s not like him, is all.”

But it _was_ a little like Henry, and that’s what bothered her. It was like this had uncorked all his crazy, the little bits of weirdness and unreality that surrounded him swelling into monstrous proportions. The things he was saying seemed so real that she was starting to wonder if he believed them all, if there was truth in his hallucinations.

“He’ll be fine,” Abe assured her. “It’s okay, I’ve seen it all before.”

She zeroed in on his words that were wrapped in a tired, familiar tone she knew well.

“Was he a user?” she asked.

She hadn’t meant to ask, had planned to keep her thoughts to herself given how Abe had ignored her question earlier; but the stress and fatigue of the day mixed with the idea of Henry as one of the customers lined outside her childhood door, one of those desperate and angry souls who’d terrified her as a kid, was too much to contemplate. She’d left all that far behind her, but the shadow of it still lurked, could creep up on her if she let it.

Abe didn’t answer right away, and it was enough to give her the affirmative answer she’d expected, though not wanted. She closed her eyes, swallowing down her bile.

“Henry’s lived a long and complicated life,” Abe said finally. “Lots of ups and downs.”

“How long has he been clean?”

“A long time.” Abe’s answer was firm. “His life is real different now. I don’t think he’s going back to that any time soon.”

“Okay,” Jo said, glancing back down the stairs. “I don’t know anything about him, do I?”

Abe pursed his lips and sighed.

“To be honest, there are days when I’m not sure _I_ really know him.”

 

***

 

The day wore on in a series of strange rattling stories, nonsense rambles about biology and history, flights of fantasy about world wars and the terrors of modern day technology, hours and hours until both she and Abe were exhausted with continually shepherding away from the everyday dangers of the house and trying to guide his thoughts in peaceful directions. Eventually Henry’s verbosity slowed, his body exhausted, his eyes growing heavy and glassy until he dozed off, head in her lap once more.

Abe returned from another trip upstairs, bringing with him a damp cloth which she took to wipe the sweat from Henry’s forehead and cheeks. He stirred, humming faintly. Abe settled in the chair opposite the chesterfield and picked up a book he’d been working through once the action had quieted down.

“Feels nice. Thank you,” Henry whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

Jo laid a hand on his chest to find his rapid heartbeat had slowed to something more reasonable while he’d dozed. They’d managed to coax him out of his tie and vest and pull off his shoes. His white dress shirt was soaked with sweat. Eventually they’d have to get him in the shower. As fastidious as Henry was, she doubted he’d appreciate sleeping and waking up like this. With luck he’d be sober enough to do so shortly.

“How are you doing?”

“Better,” he murmured. He opened his eyes and looked around, finally catching her face and tilting his head back so he could see her. “You stayed.”

“I did,” she said. She ran her fingers through his hair again. “Come on, Henry. This could have been me if you hadn’t gotten in that guy’s way. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

“You must think I’m a lunatic.” He caught her wrist, stilling her hand and pulling it down to hold it tightly. “It wasn’t real, any of it.”

There was growing lucidity in his attitude, but his eyes were tearing up. He was still emotional and erratic enough to indicate he wasn’t completely through yet.

“You told me you were going to live until the sun burned up the earth, and then you’d live in an outer space ice cube for the rest of time,” Jo said, a wry smile twisting her mouth. “It’s not like I thought we were having deep sharing time here.”

Henry didn’t find it funny, however. He closed his eyes, tears leaking from the corners, and he grit his teeth with a quiet moan. Abe looked up from his book with a frown, immediately keyed in to Henry’s mood.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jo said, wiping his face again with the cloth. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

He turned his face from her towards Abe, and Abe put down the book, shuffling out of the chair and coming to kneel beside Henry, slow and creaky with age but determined despite the long day behind them.

“Henry, relax.”

“Abe, I can’t keep doing this,” he said, his breath catching in his chest. “I’m so tired of it.”

“I know,” Abe said. He cleared his throat, shaking his head as though to clear it, and Jo could see he was fighting off his own distress. “It’s okay. Jo’s here, I’m here. You’re gonna be fine.”

“I should tell her.”

“You don’t have to. It can wait. It’s nothing that can’t be explained by a day spent on some powerful drugs,” Abe said, patting his shoulder.

Henry’s gaze shifted back to her, and she angled her head so she could look at him straight on, curious at their roundabout conversation. Whatever had come before in Henry’s life, it had clearly been a struggle. He was guarded, obsessed with death, closed off to everyone but Abe, and even having known him for almost a year she felt like she’d barely scratched the surface.

Henry shifted and sat upright, his feet falling to the floor with a heavy thud, and he pushed himself up to cross the room to a dark oak cabinet. Abe gave Jo a brief look before moving to follow him. Henry was inside already, pulling out a drawer and searching through it, removing a little book.

Abe put an arm around him, speaking quietly to him. Quiet enough that Jo couldn’t hear, and she leaned forward despite herself, not intending to violate their privacy but too curious to help it. Abe was radiating concern.

“I’m too much of a coward to do it when I’m sober.” Henry said, loud enough for her to overhear.

“Henry, maybe you should wait.”

“Abraham. Enough.” Henry turned from the cabinet with the book in his hands and came back to Jo. He thrust it at her. “Here.”

Abe looked like he would dive for the book and snatch it away from her, and despite her burning curiosity, she stopped short of opening it. It was old, a leather bound book—a memorabilia album of some kind.

“Abe, should I look at this or not?” she asked, giving him the chance to stop Henry if he was really set on it.

Abe rubbed a hand over his cheek, looking deeply conflicted, then to Henry, who was standing, gaunt and exhausted, hovering over Jo with an anxious expression.

“No. No, I don’t think you should. Not right now.”

Jo ran a hand over the cover, and then reluctantly handed it to Abe. Henry watched the exchange, his shoulders slumping in defeat as Abe tucked it back away from where he’d pulled it.

“If you want to do this tomorrow,” Abe said to him, “I’m all for it. But not right now, okay?”

Jo bit her tongue and tried to relax. What could be so damning in an album?

“Probably right,” Henry mumbled. He sank onto the chesterfield beside Jo again. “I’m sorry, Jo. Ask me tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan.”

“It’s late,” Abe said. “And I think you can get some proper sleep now, Henry. Jo, I can take the couch and you can have my bed.”

“No, I’ll take the couch. I won’t kick you out of your bed.” It was nearly two in the morning, and Henry’s all day bender had taken it out of her. She was ready for sleep and grateful not to have to drive home. She stood and stretched. “Besides, I already know it’s comfortable enough. At least I won’t have to choke down any of that green stuff this time.”

Abe laughed, and between them they shuffled Henry upstairs. He was compliant and quiet, and Abe managed to coax him through a shower before he sent him off to bed.

Jo fell asleep on the couch with the image of the leather bound album stuck in her head.

 

***

 

Henry dressed with more care and attention than even he usually exerted, making certain he was perfectly presentable before leaving his room.

The walk down the hall felt like an executioner’s march. The sounds of amiable chatter came from the kitchen where Abe and Jo were already awake, talking and joking with each other companionably. Any other day he’d have been glad to see them becoming friendly, but at the moment their combined presence felt too much like a gauntlet he had to run.

He stepped into the open living space and immediately they both stopped talking and looked at him. Abe was smiling and open, relieved to see him. Jo, in contrast, lost her easy expression almost instantly. It was the worry and fear he remembered tinging her entire being yesterday. He’d seen it, been able to touch and feel it, but never been able to take it from her.

“Hey, you must be starving,” Abe said, gesturing to the continental breakfast he’d laid out on the table. “Sit, eat.”

He did as instructed, taking the cloth napkin and spreading it across his lap as he did at each meal. The ritual was comforting, though upon raising his gaze he met Jo’s eyes across the table that small bit of peace evaporated. Nothing for it, he might as well tackle it head on.

“Thank you for your assistance yesterday,” he said. “It wasn’t necessary, but your presence was,” he searched for an appropriate word, settling on, “reassuring.”

Jo relaxed a bit, her tension easing.

“Okay. I was a little worried you’d be upset. I know you didn’t want me to to stay but—“

“But your concern over me was understandable. I’m sure Abe appreciated the company. I don’t imagine I was all that pleasant to deal with.”

Abe joined them at the table, making a dismissive noise as he sat.

“Nah, you weren’t that bad. But yes, the company was nice. Thanks, Jo.”

She nodded, toying with a slice of toast and jam on her plate before taking a bite.

Henry could practically feel the questions radiating from her. He had spent the greater part of his shower the night before grilling Abe on why it would have been so bad to tell her, alternately convinced that he’d made a mistake in letting Abe stop him and thankful to him for having done so. Abe patiently deflected the conversation over and again until Henry had finally run out of hot water and let himself be shepherded to bed. Jo may have not been given the whole story, but she now knew there was a story to tell.

He’d left her a giant, looming mystery. Jo, with the personality she had, wouldn’t forget a single thing he’d said, and as time went on, she would put things together on her own in whatever shape she imagined. He was certain she’d already built a story in her mind to fit the details, though he had no idea what it was.

Now it was hard to hold his head up. Henry was not prone to embarrassment typically, but this was severely testing him.

“About the—the matter I was going to tell you,” he began, but Jo held up her hand to stop him, leaning forward to put her elbows on the table.

“You don’t have to, Henry. You’re not obligated to tell me anything, okay?”

Abe was silent at his side, and he looked over to try and seek an answer from him. He could take the way out, refuse to explain himself, and rely on Jo’s decency and discretion to allow them to continue on as they were. Abe seemed to sense his indecision and put his arm around the back of Henry’s chair, letting his hand rest on Henry’s shoulder blade, firm and secure.

“I don’t know what to do,” he finally admitted, looking between them both. “I honestly don’t.”

“I won’t judge you, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Jo said gently.

Henry huffed a small laugh, and Abe’s hand moved in a small and reassuring pat. But the longer he looked at Jo looking at him, the more his stomach clenched painfully until he couldn’t even consider eating—or staying seated at the table. He pushed the chair back and got up, pacing away into the living room. He had no idea what to do. The stage was set, the door open, and yet he couldn’t make himself cross the threshold.

“Maybe I should go,” he heard Jo say to Abe. “I should get home anyway, clean up before I head into work.”

“Give me a minute,” Abe responded. “Wait here, okay?”

Henry turned as Abe came to stand beside him at the living room window. He clasped his hands together tightly, trying and failing to hide his fear. Abe tucked his hands in his jeans pockets.

“I could tell her, if you want.”

“She’ll think you as mad as me, then. It’s not fun, I can promise you.”

“I doubt she’ll lock up a helpless old man,” he said. He put a hand on his chest. “Or me either.”

That worked a laugh out of Henry, and he shook his head.

“I’ll not send my son into battle on my behalf,” he said quietly, putting a hand on Abe’s shoulder and squeezing tight, then pulling him into a hug. “But thank you.”

“So what do you want to do?”

Henry released Abe, looking past him to the conspicuous silence in the kitchen. Though the road ahead terrified him, the appeal of being able to speak to Jo openly about his life, his reality, was too tempting to ignore. He knew he said things in front of her that were incautious, almost as though he couldn’t help himself. Tidbits of history, allusions to the length of his life, all sorts of bits and pieces that were the only truthful currency he had to share. He wanted more. He wanted to trust her.

“Perhaps it’s time.”

Abe’s smile was wide and warm, and he clapped Henry on the shoulder. They walked back into the kitchen, where Jo was still at the table, her hands steepled together with her chin resting on her fists. She straightened up when they returned.

Henry and Abe sat as one, and Jo looked between them, her nervousness palpable.

“Well,” Henry said with a deep breath, “It’s a long story.”


End file.
